Black Magic Woman

Black Magic Woman

There she stood by the door,
Dazzled the room by the perfume she wore;
“I’m sorry, I’m late” with an impeccable accent,
Lovestruck I am, maybe this is meant.

She was scarred, she was bruised,
She was scared, she was accused;
She locked up trust like a treasure,
Couldn’t be won by simple leisure.

We chipped the ice bit by bit,
Discovering each other to see if we fit;
She was unlike any I had met ever,
Time was required on this endeavour.

Worked together,
Travelled together,
Dined together,
Something was brewing nether.

Time flew by, we dined each seventh day,
Started to mould the other like clay:
I took to green tea,
And she to be more free.

Work got intense, meetings were charged up,
Fought with sense, quarrels were death cups;
She stood her ground, she earned her bread,
Won tremendous respect, no matter what was said.

There’s something about her,
When around her, all else is blur;
As noble as Fred Trueman,
She’s my black magic woman,

She still stands by the door,
Dazzling me by the perfume she wears
“I recon” & “Sir” she still orates with an impeccable accent
Lovestruck I am, I know this is meant.

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